


The (Other) Japan Job

by ladyflamewing



Category: Leverage, 幽☆遊☆白書 | YuYu Hakusho: Ghost Files
Genre: Crossover, Multi, OT3, Post-Series, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-13 04:23:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4507608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyflamewing/pseuds/ladyflamewing





	1. Chapter 1

Kurama pushes open the oversized doors to the office - and stops almost immediately at the sight of Yusuke attempting to do his best unconcerned sprawl in front of the desk, made more difficult by the distinct lack of other furniture to sprawl _on_. A quick glance to his right reveals Hiei at the edges of his peripheral vision, leaning against the wall just beside the door - generally the last place anyone’s gaze will go after entering a room.

“You know,” he says conversationally, and although he is addressing neither of the people in the room, he’s fairly certain he’ll still get an answer. “I _did_ consider not responding when I received your message, given that I don’t actually work for you anymore. It’s starting to feel like I’m going to regret not making that decision.”

He’s reached Yusuke by the time he’s finished, and he’s quite vindicated to see one of the side doors to the office open, and Koenma come toddling in - he’s never been able to resist the dramatic entrance, and it makes him utterly predictable.

“Consider it a favor,” Koenma grumbles as he hauls himself into his desk chair, and Kurama arches an eyebrow.

“I wasn’t aware I owed you one. Or, perhaps, you mean that you’ll owe _me_ something for whatever you’re about to ask me to do,” he says pointedly. The full-body shudder that goes through Koenma at this suggestion should probably not please him as much as it does, but…

Everyone has their faults.

“Perish the thought,” Koenma mutters under his breath, and then speaks up to add, “Don’t forget, I kept you two out of prison.”

“For charges of which I was _fairly_ certain we’d been entirely cleared, given the number of times we’ve saved the entire human race since then,” Kurama feels compelled to point out. He’s actually _not_ entirely certain whether their records have been wiped completely clean, but it seems like a pretty decent bet, and Koenma doesn’t contradict him - just pins him with a rather half-hearted glare.

“And you’re about to do it again.”

Yusuke has seemed content to simply watch the proceedings thus far with a smug look on his face, but this last proclamation is apparently too much. “No. No way. We don’t work for you anymore. You’re not even _allowed_ to hire me for anything anymore, remember? Why can’t you send your stupid Spirit Squad, or whatever?”

This is enough to finally prompt a reaction from Hiei, although it’s nothing more than an amused snort, and he has already rearranged his expression into something completely unconcerned by the time Kurama turns to look at him.

“That…that isn’t what they’re called,” Koenma protests weakly. “And I can’t - “

“Petition to change their name to that, though,” Kurama says to Yusuke, under his breath. “It makes them sound like some kind of cheerleading group.”

Yusuke snickers and answers, “You only have my support if I can add a motion to change their uniforms to match.”

Apparently, Kurama does a rather poor job of stifling his laugh, because Koenma fixes him with another glare. “If you’re quite finished?”

After a moment’s consideration, he nods.

“Fine. As I was saying, I can’t send the Special Defense Force,” Koenma continues, with a certain amount of emphasis on their proper name, “because the problem is human in origin.”

“Normal humans, or humans with powers?” Yusuke asks, his interest apparently finally piqued.

“Unclear,” answers Koenma, and _that’s_ enough to get Kurama interested, as well. It’s rare that Koenma admits to not knowing something.

“So what _is_ the problem?” he asks mildly.

“We have reports of a team of human criminals in the country who are planning the theft of a particularly powerful artifact from the National Museum,” Koenma begins, clearly settling in for a long mission briefing, but Yusuke interrupts him almost immediately.

“If you know they’re gonna steal it, why not just let the cops know? In fact, why not just let _Kuwabara_ know?”

“Because of the potential consequences if he can’t stop them,” Koenma explains, somewhat impatiently, although Kurama’s not sure why he’s still expecting to get through one of these without being interrupted. You would think it had been long enough for him to know better.

Yusuke scoffs. “What, _Kuwabara?_ Even if they _do_ have powers - and we can go in as backup or whatever just in case they do - Kuwabara can handle it.”

“I’m not so sure,” Koenma answers. “This particular crew is well-known - although they generally operate out of the US, they’ve done some jobs abroad, and have even made a few sporadic appearances here in the past. And one of the most widely-reported pieces of information about them is that they consistently manage to accomplish the impossible.”

“Luck?” Kurama asks, even more interested now, and Koenma nods.

“Which, as you well know, is often one of the more common outward expressions of untapped powers - hence, the confusion over whether or not they’re ordinary humans. Without details about their capabilities, I’m hesitant to involve Kuwabara - can you imagine the repercussions if it’s discovered that he knew a theft was coming, and still didn’t manage to stop it?”

“At best, he’d lose his job,” Kurama muses, almost idly, trying to conceal the way his gut has clenched at the thought. “At worst, he’d never work in law enforcement again.”

Yusuke winces, and Kurama’s glad for it - it’s nice to know he’s not the only one affected by the idea, even if he is loathe to show it. “Aw, man - he loves his job.”

“Indeed,” Koenma agrees. “So, no police.”

“Okay, fine,” Yusuke concedes easily. “No cops. So, what - you want us to track them down and beat the crap out of them, stop them from stealing the thing?”

“No, no!” Koenma interjects hastily. “I’m fairly certain they don’t know what they’re doing - one of the other confirmed reports we have is that…they only work for good.”

“I beg your pardon?” Kurama knows he’s not doing much to hide his disbelief, but he can’t quite bring himself to care. “If I remember correctly, that excuse didn’t hold much weight for you when I tried to use it.”

Koenma gives a very put-upon sigh. “Circumstances were different,” he bites out, and continues before Kurama has a chance to protest. “Look, the bottom line is, they only target people who have done something wrong, they never charge their clients, and as a matter of fact, most of their clients end up _getting_ money from the jobs they pull. That artifact is only in the museum because it’s on loan from the CEO of a company that is not particularly well-known for its scrupulous business practices - I’m assuming that’s why they’re targeting it. I can hardly condone your particular brand of justice when their only crime - at least as far as the Spirit World is concerned - is getting involved in something they don’t completely understand.”

“So why get involved at all?” Kurama asks pointedly. “If the assumption is they don’t want the artifact for its power, why is the Spirit World concerned?”

“As odd as it sounds,” Koenma admits, somewhat reluctantly, “because the artifact is actually relatively safe while it’s on display in the museum.”

There’s another scoff from somewhere behind Kurama, which isn’t surprising - it’s actually not a bad summarization of his own opinions on the matter. Koenma holds up a quelling hand before he can elaborate, though.

“I’m not saying anyone determined enough couldn’t take it,” he says. “Or that there would be much of a fight. But with the artifact on display, constantly surrounded by crowds of people and in the public eye, it’s much harder for anyone to move on it without us being aware. That’s how we know about this team in the first place.”

“You’re afraid that if they manage to steal it, they’ll become a much easier target.”

Koenma nods. “Yes. A team of three humans, even ones with unclear power levels, isn’t likely to put up much of a fight for a professional hunter. Or, because they don’t know what the artifact really is, they may simply sell it to the highest bidder. We can’t run the risk of it falling into the hands of someone who knows what it’s capable of.”

“Okay, but,” Yusuke interrupts, frowning, “I don’t get it. If you don’t want us to work with the cops, and you don’t want us to go in and stop them from stealing it, what the hell are we supposed to do?”

“I never said I didn’t want you to stop them from stealing it,” Koenma says, carefully and deliberately, and with a sudden interest in looking at neither Kurama nor Hiei. “In fact, that’s _exactly_ what I want you to do.”

The last piece of the puzzle finally clicks into place for Kurama. “That’s the _real_ reason Kazuma isn’t here, isn’t it?” he asks softly, and is rewarded by Koenma even more determinedly not making eye contact.

Yusuke turns to Kurama, apparently giving up on attempting to get straight answers out of Koenma. (He’s lasted longer than Kurama expected, actually.) “All right, you’ve figured out what he wants - now explain it in small words for the people in the room who aren’t quite as smart as you are,” he demands.

“He wants us to steal it first.”

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” Yusuke responds immediately. “We’re not thieves.”

“I beg to differ,” Koenma protests. “Two of you have been convicted of that very crime.”

“And what about me?” Yusuke asks. “What, you just figured I wouldn’t care? How come Kuwabara gets a free pass?”

“Kuwabara-kun is law enforcement,” Koenma points out. “I figured he wouldn’t be comfortable being asked to actively participate in law-breaking, regardless of whether or not he was acting in an official capacity.”

Kurama frowns. Something about this is still bothering him, and he finds himself replaying bits of the conversation in his mind, over and over again, until he finds that little rough edge that doesn’t fit in with the rest and tugs it free.

“He’s going to end up involved anyway,” he says slowly, suddenly understanding that Koenma backed them into a corner without any of them noticing - and that, judging by the smug look he’s doing a terrible job of concealing, he knows it. “The National Museum is in his district.”

“Which is why you’re not doing _me_ a favor,” Koenma agrees. “You’re doing _him_ one. Plus, you know, saving the world again - I remember when that used to count for something.”

Kurama opens his mouth to say something particularly scathing, but finds himself beaten to the punch.

“Not interested.”

He turns to see Hiei already pulling the office doors open. Without looking at any of them, he elaborates, “Send Kurama in by himself if he wants to go - I’m sure he’s more than capable. But your leverage doesn’t do any good with me. I don’t care what happens to that idiot.”

Kurama would be hard-pressed not to notice the way Yusuke stiffens beside him, and in that moment, he almost hates Hiei - hates the way he’s so dedicated to upholding this stupid charade when the rest of them all know the truth. It’s been far too long now for any of them to think anything else, and yet Hiei is so determined to pretend that he wouldn’t lay his life down for Kuwabara without a second thought that he sometimes manages to convince the rest of them that he’d honestly let him hang.

In the brief silence that follows, while Kurama tries to find his way past the bitter, hurt words that want to pour off his tongue, Koenma speaks, softly.

“What about what happens to Kurama?”

If possible, Yusuke stiffens even more, and Kurama finds himself shocked out his anger, although he tries not to let it show on his face. Hiei stops abruptly, his hand tightening almost imperceptibly on the door handle.

“What are you talking about?” he retorts, almost carelessly. “What could possibly happen to him? He’s a professional - he knows what he’s doing.”

“In the Makai, sure,” Koenma agrees. “In the Reikai, too, apparently. But unless he’s hiding a very particular set of skills from all of us, he’s got no experience in the Human World. He’s a ward-breaker, not a safe-cracker.”

With a low growl, Hiei spins to face them, and Kurama makes very certain he’s all wide-eyed innocence.

“An unfortunate truth,” he admits. “I could probably manage to avoid cameras, and maybe motion detectors, if I got very clever. And anything with a mechanical lock, I’m skilled enough at getting through. But the minute I come up against anything that requires a password or a keycode, I’m finished. I’ve never worked with technology-based systems before.”

“And how am _I_ supposed to help with that?” Hiei asks, stalking closer. Kurama smiles.

“People,” he says softly. “People are the weakpoints of most security systems - even those based in technology. And no one is quite so good at extracting information from people as you are.”

He holds Hiei’s gaze for a moment, then makes the smallest motion with his head - just a tiny nod in Yusuke’s direction. Hiei’s good enough not to let his gaze follow the motion, but Kurama can see the moment his gaze goes slightly unfocused, letting his peripheral vision take over so he can see Yusuke standing there, doing his best to appear nonchalant while nervous tension vibrates through the lines of his body.

He can also see the moment that Hiei tries to hide, the faintest softening of his eyes around the corners before he steels his gaze again and growls, “If I’m not getting anything from Koenma, I’m sure as hell going to cash in a favor from _you_ when this is over. _Both_ of you,” he adds, turning towards Yusuke and deliberately drawing him into the conversation.

Almost immediately, the tension runs out of Yusuke like water, and he slumps back into his usual slouch with a grin. “Yeah, yeah,” he agrees easily, and Kurama has to hide his smile behind one hand.

They’re a mess, all of them - but somehow, they manage to make it work.

“All right,” he agrees, turning back towards Koenma, who’s been watching the proceedings with a somewhat bemused expression on his face. Kurama wonders, sometimes, if he has any idea how close his ragtag team has gotten. Wonders if he cares. “So what’s our time frame on this?”

“One week.”

Kurama arches an eyebrow. “A week?” he asks. “You want us to plan a theft of the National Museum in a week?”

“Sooner would be better,” Koenma admits. “That’s a rough timeline based on what we know - it’s possible the human team could move sooner.”

Kurama considers this for a moment, then shrugs. “All right. I suppose I’ve been asked to do more difficult things.” He glances over at Hiei, finds him wearing a satisfied grin.

“Planning the job on this place only took three days,” Hiei points out, deliberately, and the outraged splutter this prompts from Koenma goes a long way towards making things right between them again.


	2. Chapter 2

The last screw comes out, easy as you please, but the young woman lying in the air duct doesn’t do anything further for a moment. Instead, she asks softly, “You got me?” The sounds echo a little in the utter quiet, the metal around her reverberating gently.

The answer comes back through the communicator tucked into her ear. “Always, babe. You’re good to go.”

With a grin, she pops the vent cover free, and slips herself out and into the hallway in a series of sinuous motions fit to make anyone jealous. In her ear, the voice chuckles.

“I _never_ get tired of that.”

As she stands, her eyes unerringly find the security camera tucked away into the corner, and she gives it a wave - just a little waggle of her fingers. “You’ve got the live feed?”

“Yup. Easier to keep an eye on things that way. Security guards in the office are seeing a looped feed, though, and the motion detectors are mine.”

She nods and starts off down the hallway, but she only manages a few steps before the voice continues hesitantly, “I _might_ be having some problems with the laser grids, though.”

The response is so routine by now that she mouths along as the growl comes through her communicator. “Damn it, Hardison!”

“What?” Alec says, defensively. “Look, the best security systems in the world are designed in this country. What do you want me to do? I’m working on it.”

Parker hums thoughtfully for a moment. “The grids are only in the exhibition rooms, right?”

“Yeah,” Alec answers immediately, and Parker nods, changing course slightly.

“That’s fine, then - I can use the hallways to get around. It’ll take me a little longer to get to the target, but it’ll save you the effort of having to crack all the grids. Just focus on the one in the artifact room - that’s the one that matters.”

“Got it.”

“Parker, keep an eye out,” Eliot warns. “I haven’t seen the guard patrol that was supposed to come by me yet. It could just mean they’re off-schedule for some reason, but it could mean something else. Stay on guard.”

“Will do,” she answers, and continues down the hallway to the oddly reassuring sound of clacking keys, picked up faintly by Alec’s earbud.

She’s not particularly bothered by the need to change her plans - Alec’s trouble with the laser grids simply means that the pieces of the puzzle need to be taken apart, rotated slightly, and slotted back together again. It’s neat enough, and technically only bumps them down to Plan D. Still plenty of wiggle room left over - or so she thinks, right up until she finds the bodies.

“Huh,” she says, her tone carefully neutral. Still, she doesn’t think she’s imagining the way the sudden and complete silence on the other end of her earbud takes on a decidedly tense air.

“Parker,” Alec says, very deliberately, “are you looking at what I think you’re looking at?”

“That depends,” she answers lightly, her gaze flicking up momentarily to give the security camera a quelling glance. “Do you think I’m looking at Eliot’s missing security patrol?”

“What?” Eliot growls.

“Yes; yes, I do,” Alec answers, his voice tight and unhappy. “I also think they all appear to be on the ground. Possibly dead.”

_“What?”_

“No, no, no,” Parker says hastily. “Definitely not dead. Eliot, hold position.”

“I swear to god, Parker - “ he starts, but they’ve been together long enough that she’s learned how to deal with him, so she simply talks over his snarling.

“Actually, there aren’t even any marks on them,” she says, looking them over curiously, placing her feet carefully and deliberately in the spaces between their prone bodies. “No signs of a fight - no bleeding, no bruising. Their clothes and hair are pretty much untouched, too. It’s kind of like…they just fell asleep.”

Eliot stops grumbling about halfway through her observations, and by the time she’s reached the end, she’s apparently managed to pique his interest, because he asks, “Is that possible?”

She shrugs, but it’s Alec who actually answers. “Maybe. Some kind of…gas, piped through the building?”

“Wouldn’t me and Parker be asleep, too, then?”

“And what about the guards in the office?” Parker adds. “They’re still awake, right?”

There’s a brief pause, during which Parker knows Alec is switching over to the feed from the camera in the security office. “Yeah. They’re all still sitting up, and they move every once in a while to look at a different screen - they’re definitely not being affected.”

Parker’s silent for a while, turning pieces over in her head again. “There’s another crew on site,” she says finally, slowly, testing the way it fits into the big picture. Satisfied that it does, she nods - time to change the plans again.

“I’m moving up the timeline,” she says, heading back down the hallway, only instead of a sedate walk, it’s now an all-out sprint. “Eliot, be ready to move on my signal. Alec - get me that laser grid.”

“Got it,” they answer, together, but Parker doesn’t really have the extra time to devote to being amused by that - they’re moving pretty quickly into the second half of the alphabet when it comes to plans, and she hates being down there. Less room for adaptation, and while she doesn’t have any plans where her teammates die (she’s never been entirely certain whether or not Nate was serious about that), she does have some where things don’t end particularly well, and this is the first job in a long time where that’s starting to become a serious possibility.

She skids around the final corner and heads for the exhibit hall door, not slowing in the slightest. She trusts her team, utterly and completely, and sure enough, her hands have just made contact with the door handles when Alec says, “Got it - you’re clear.”

She throws the door open without hesitation, even as he continues - “But, Parker, there’s a - “

She’s thinks he keeps talking after that, but she can’t seem to force herself to pay attention, as all of her focus has suddenly zeroed in on the person standing in the middle of the room - the person who slowly turns to look at her over one shoulder, long red hair shifting over their back.

He (she’s fairly certain the person is male, despite the slight build and the long hair), gives her an oddly polite smile and turns a little further, enough so that she can see him slip a dark, round object into a pouch at his waist. Her whole body draws tight at the sight, but she forces herself to smile back, calm and casual.

“Not bad,” she hears herself saying, disconnected enough that she has time to wonder if there’s any point to it, if he even speaks English. “Your hacker must be pretty good to get you in here before me.”

A slight furrow appears on the thief’s forehead. “I’m sorry,” he says, and apparently he does speak English, albeit slightly accented. “My what?”

“Your hacker,” she reiterates, waving a hand vaguely around the room, as if to elaborate. Maybe it’s just a translation problem. “You know, whoever stopped the security system from picking you up.”

That odd smile is back on his face now, and Parker has a sudden realization, even as she simultaneously notices that Alec has been repeating her name into the comms for the last half-minute or so.

“Parker, all the security systems were still on until I got to them,” he says, low and urgent, confirming what she’s already suspected. “There’s nobody else in the system - he doesn’t have a hacker.”

“You don’t have a hacker,” Parker repeats, and that’s not such a big deal, really - she used to work by herself, after all - except that she knows even she couldn’t have gotten through this place by herself, and certainly not faster than someone working with a team. “So how did you make it past all the security so quickly?”

His smile widens. “By being very good at what I do,” he answers, infuriatingly, and then - even more infuriatingly - turns away in what is quite obviously an outright dismissal. Parker bristles, and in a tone that brooks absolutely no argument, hisses, “Hardison, lasers, now. Eliot, west entrance to the exhibit hall.”

It’s her mastermind voice, and she doesn’t use it often, but she has to admit it’s gratifying to see the laser grid snap on immediately, despite Alec’s string of protests in her ear.

“Parker, what are you _doing?_ ”

She doesn’t answer. All of her attention is now on the redheaded thief again, who has stopped short, the lights of the laser grid casting eerie, shifting shadows across his angular face. There’s a small safe zone just around each exhibit and by each door, and as long as neither of them move, they’re both safe.

He half-turns to look at her again, and for a split second, she could swear his piercing green eyes flash a very different color - but it must just be a trick of the light, some reflection from the lasers (she makes an absent mental note to ask Alec about it later).

“That’s a bold move,” he says, low and quiet, not so polite as before, and that’s a tone she’s intimately familiar with - but he’s no hitter, not with that build. “If either of us trip the alarms, the police will come down on all of us.”

Parker shrugs, loose and easy, concealing the way her whole body has gone on high alert, knowing the exact same thing. “Then I guess you’d better start negotiating a way out that doesn’t get you arrested.”

“I think you’ve overlooked something rather important, though,” he continues, as if she hasn’t spoken at all, and then he smiles, and Parker abruptly loses the battle to keep her body language neutral, because that expression is like nothing she’s ever seen before - it’s sharp and predatory and she _hates_ it, hates _him_ for the way it makes her feel completely powerless.

“And what’s that?” she breathes, all the hairs on the back of her neck trying to stand on end, Alec’s and Eliot’s voices urgent in her ear, asking her what’s happening, what’s wrong, but she can’t listen to them, not now, not when all of her focus needs to be on the man in the middle of the room, who’s dangerous in a way Parker can’t quite understand yet.

“All of the security was still on when I arrived,” he answers, and then he moves.

“Don’t - “ Parker starts to say, and then her words utterly fail her, because he moves like nothing she’s ever seen before. Maybe more than anyone, she knows what the human body can do when pushed to its absolute limits, but none of that could possibly have prepared her for this.

He doesn’t slip the grid slow and steady, like she would, measuring the paths of the lasers and bending his body carefully to fit. Instead, he launches himself into the spaces between them at a speed that seems almost impossible, and he changes direction to avoid them in ways that _definitely_ are. He twists and bends with a lithe grace that Parker can’t help but envy, and she’s utterly certain she sees him change direction in midair on more than one occasion. She’s actually not sure he touches the ground more than once or twice the entire way across the room.

She’s so utterly bewildered by the sight that she doesn’t see the collision coming until just before it happens, and for all his apparent grace, the redheaded thief isn’t quite fast enough to avoid it when he tucks himself into one last twist, lands on the other side of the laser grid, flashes her a rather self-satisfied smile, stands up, and caroms off of Eliot’s solid frame in the doorway. He goes staggering backwards, and Parker lets out a startled shout, because she can see the moment his center of gravity goes past the point of no return, and she knows he’s going over - straight into the path of the laser grid he’s just cleared.

“Hardison!” she barks urgently, and the clacking of keys is already loud in her ears, but she needn’t have worried. With his own eerie speed, Eliot’s hand darts out and gathers a fistful of the thief’s shirt, halting his backwards progress.

Parker doesn’t let out the breath she’s holding until the lasers snap off a moment later. The stranger seems to share her relief, because he sags a little against Eliot’s grip, then says, “Thank you. That could have ended poorly.”

Eliot raises an eyebrow. “Don’t thank me yet,” he drawls, his voice not quite dropped down into that low, dangerous register yet, but getting there. Parker knows that her reactions to this thief will have made Eliot on edge, and she’s not sure she minds. That’s the nice thing about working with a team, after all - you’ve always got someone to cover your back. “You might not want to after what happens next.”

Still hanging almost parallel to the floor, supported only by Eliot’s grip on his clothing, the thief sounds calmer than he has any right to be. “Oh? And what happens next?”

“That depends on you,” Eliot answers, then nods his head meaningfully at the pouch on the thief’s waist. “Although, I will say, it’s probably in your best interest to hand over that artifact.”

Slowly, Parker sees the thief curl a hand around Eliot’s wrist, his long, pale fingers looking almost comically delicate against her hitter’s arm. And yet, he still sounds completely unconcerned. “I’m afraid I’ll have to disagree with you on that. I don’t think it would be in anyone’s best interest.”

“Then I’m real sorry for what I gotta do now.” With that, Eliot hauls him upright with one hand and lashes out with the other. Parker winces in anticipation - the thief is quite obviously not built to take the kind of punishment Eliot dishes out - but the solid thud of flesh against flesh never comes.

Instead, Eliot stumbles forward, half under the force of his missed swing, and half under the force of the thief, who has somehow - in the space of a blink - simply sidestepped, using his grip on Eliot’s wrist to force him off balance. He doesn’t press his advantage, though - just lets go of the hitter and backs off a few steps. Towards the door.

“What the _hell?_ ” Eliot growls, whipping around, and Parker can’t help but agree. She’s very quickly running out of ways to adapt the plan to take any new surprises into account, and though options are spinning themselves around in her head, she can’t seem to manage to make any of them fit together. It’s a disconcerting feeling.

She’s almost convinced they’re just going to lose the artifact at this point, that the redhead is just going to turn on his heel and take off running, but…he doesn’t. He just stands there, watching Eliot curiously, his hands held loosely in front of his chest, palms towards each other, almost - almost like he’s waiting for Eliot to move again. Almost like he wants him to try again.

_But that’s insane_ , Parker thinks, even as Eliot straightens and falls into his own familiar stance. _There’s no way this guy can go toe-to-toe with Eliot. Is there?_

She doesn’t get much more time to consider it before Eliot launches himself forward, growling, and the two dissolve into a flurry of motion. Her ear is suddenly filled with the amplified sounds of Eliot’s exertion - his heavy breaths, his soft grunts as blows connect or miss - and it takes her a few moments to realize that there’s no sound coming from the thief. He is completely and utterly silent.

It takes her a few moments more to figure out why - he’s not actually throwing any punches. Instead, all he’s doing is avoiding Eliot - stepping from side to side, using his palms and forearms to turn aside everything Eliot throws at him. And his eyes - Parker’s brow furrows as she watches them - his eyes are bright, interested, and utterly unafraid.

“Guys,” comes Alec’s voice in her ear, and she’s been distracted enough by the odd fight that she startles slightly. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but local cops have been called, and they’re on their way. ETA: 10 minutes.”

“Scramble them,” Parker answers, automatically, although she knows he’ll have already tried - that’s part of the myriad plans.

“Tried that,” he does, indeed, answer back, and Parker knows that he’d only be so patient with her for suggesting something so obvious. God, she needs to get her head back in the game. “They’re still coming.”

“ _Damn it_ , Hardison!” Eliot barks out, more frustrated than he really should be, likely because of the way his fight is going - or not going, really. “Did you use the voice samples?”

“Oh, the _voice samples_ ,” Alec drawls in her ear, all biting sarcasm the way they both know Eliot hates. “You mean the ones from the police chief, that I specifically recorded for this job, and then painstakingly strung together into a wide variety of potentially useful phrases, which required that I basically learn a new language in a couple of weeks? Those voice samples?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Eliot growls, even angrier now, and takes a particularly hard swing that glances off of the thief’s forearms. Parker blinks in surprise - and so does the redhead, taking a few halting steps backwards and shaking his head, as if to clear it. She can almost feel the moment his attention refocuses, and wonders what made him lose it in the first place.

“You know, I’d completely forgotten -“ Alec starts, and then apparently loses patience for the whole charade. Parker’s actually surprised he made it that long - his tipping point for Eliot telling him how to do his job often triggers much sooner than that.

“ _Yes_ , I used the damn voice samples,” he bites out, and Parker can almost see the exasperated face he’s making at his monitors, at the camera feeds he’s watching them through. “Some grumpy-ass detective came on the line, told everyone he was pretty sure the chief was compromised, and that he’d take the heat if anything went wrong. Had to run all that through a damn translator to figure out what the heck was going on, which is why ya’ll now only have about five minutes to get your behinds out of there.”

“Working on it,” Eliot snarls, and that’s when the doors behind the redhead suddenly fly open.

Both Eliot and Parker immediately fix their attention on the newcomer - another fairly trim figure with dark, slicked-back hair, who’s slowly lowering his foot back to the floor - but the redhead never even flinches, much less looks around. That’s enough to tell Parker that the two are working together, and though the dark-haired one isn’t much bigger than the redhead, something about the way he carries himself tells Parker he’s no thief. He’s too…there, too solid, moves without that eerie, shifting grace.

_Hitter_ , she thinks, instinctively, and then feels an odd shiver pass over her - because if their thief can go toe-to-toe with Eliot, what the hell is their hitter going to be capable of? Eliot clearly has the same thought, because he immediately backs up several steps, putting himself deliberately into the path between the two strangers and Parker. Ordinarily, this protective instinct would go quite a ways towards ruffling Parker’s feathers, but in this case - she’s not sure he’s wrong.

Puzzle pieces are still spinning madly in her mind, and each time she thinks she’s finally rearranged her plan to fit, something jars itself free, knocking everything else askew. This is her _job_ , damn it, this is what Nate entrusted her with, and what _good_ is she if she can’t find a way out?

To her great surprise, however, the newcomer doesn’t pay either of them any mind - instead, he fixes his gaze on the redhead and rattles off an irritated-sounding stream of Japanese, jerking his head towards the hallway he emerged from. The thief looks sheepish, and has the audacity to turn a mildly apologetic glance back across the room at Parker as the faint sound of sirens drifts into the room.

“I’m afraid that’s my cue to leave,” he says, and for the second time, turns his back in obvious dismissal and moves towards the door. His dark-haired teammate is already moving, preceding him down the hallway, and before Parker can say anything - although she’s completely unsure what is even left to say - Eliot growls and launches himself forward, clearly meaning to blindside the thief and retrieve the artifact by force.

This time, she _doesn’t_ blink - she’s sure of it. And yet, somehow, she still misses seeing anything happen. One instant, she’s positive Eliot’s about to bring the thief to the floor, the next instant he’s tumbling backwards across the room towards her, ass over teakettle, and the thief’s standing there with his hands outstretched, palms out.

As she makes her way instinctively towards Eliot, stunned and terrified - although seeing him stir from the tangle of arms and legs he’s landed in goes a long way towards easing her rising panic - the dark-haired stranger says something irritated again, almost chastising, and the redhead winces before answering back in the same language.

Eliot brushes her hands aside impatiently when she reaches out to check him for injuries, but she notices that he doesn’t try to get up - just lies there with her kneeling beside him, staring impassively across the room. 

“I - I am so sorry about that,” the thief says, and it should be infuriating, because Parker can tell that he means it. She seems to have gone oddly numb, however, and she examines this feeling - or, lack thereof - curiously, as if from a distance. “I thought - “

He trails off, then shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. Look, we really do have to go, but - the head detective is a friend of ours. He’ll look after you.” He pauses for a moment more, half-turned to leave, but when his friend says something urgently, he only repeats, “I’m sorry,” and disappears down the hallway.

Still feeling oddly disconnected from herself, Parker reaches up for her communicator. “Hardison?” she asks, finally noticing that there’s been no talk in her ear for the past several minutes. But Eliot’s shaking his head.

“Earbuds went dead a little while ago,” he says, attempting to push himself into a sitting position, wincing, and subsiding again, propped up oddly on one of the display stands with one arm clutched to his chest. Parker suspects broken ribs. “Which means Hardison’s either done what he’s supposed to do and gone underground, or - “

“They’ve already taken him,” Parker finishes, and she knows - the same way that Eliot does - that’s the more likely option. Despite all of the times they’ve told him to leave them behind, that he’s more useful to them if he’s on the outside working to clear their names, Alec will never be able to bring himself to do it. Something inside him is fundamentally unable to leave his teammates to hang. Parker supposes she ought to be grateful for that.

“He’ll never learn,” Eliot says, with a laugh that gets cut short by a hissed breath and gritted teeth. Parker reaches out to grip his arm as footsteps and shouts come pounding down the hallways on all sides, and for just a moment, she closes her eyes and allows herself to wonder how she let it go so badly - and just how in the hell she’s supposed to fix it.

In hindsight, she thinks, she doesn’t know why she’s surprised to learn that Hardison’s ‘grumpy-ass detective’ and the redheaded thief’s head detective friend are one and the same. That’s really just the way this job has been going, after all.


	3. Chapter 3

“Are you sure you can handle this alone?” Kurama asks, and if looks could kill, the scalding glare Hiei gives him in return would make short work of him, probably taking Yusuke along as a casualty.

“Forget I asked,” he murmurs, holding out both hands placatingly. A moment later, though, he’s glad he did, as Hiei’s Jagan flares and he feels the minds of his teammates slip in and settle beside his own. He catches Yusuke’s wince out of the corner of his eye and can’t help but agree - Hiei’s specialty is not refined control, and any other time they’ve needed to set up a telepathic communications net, Kuwabara has always been there to temper his power. Still, he’s being careful - that much is obvious from the fact that neither Kurama nor Yusuke are suffering any more serious effects than that initial spike of pain.

The connection flares briefly, then steadies into something more familiar - though there’s an odd, aching emptiness where the fourth mind should be that Kurama does his best to ignore. Yusuke grimaces a little, rubbing absently at his chest, and shifts position before settling again. Hiei’s glance flicks over at the movement, but quickly returns to the building in the distance.

“Now the guards,” Kurama reminds him, gently, and Hiei scowls.

“I still say it would be easier if I just incapacitated all of them,” he grumbles, but his third eye flares again as he goes to work. Kurama just shakes his head.

“I’ll need some of them later, I have no doubt,” he says, and then thinks, _For more reasons than one, if I’m right._

Yusuke rolls his eyes. _Show-off_ , he thinks. _You’re going to be insufferable, if you are._

Kurama shrugs - rather graciously, in his opinion - then shivers briefly as Hiei’s control over the guards snaps into place. Hiei has never attempted to control anyone while they’ve been connected before, but the feeling is unmistakable and exceedingly odd - four dim presences suddenly blink into existence in the back of his mind, dull and muted against the stronger energies that are Yusuke and Hiei.

Yusuke grimaces again. “That is so weird,” he mutters. Hiei’s gaze remains absent and unfocused, but he does scoff softly, and the sound is oddly comforting to Kurama - he’d been worried that the attempt to control so many minds at one time would take all of Hiei’s concentration, leaving him unaware and vulnerable.

_Still_ , he thinks, as he slips silently down from the tree, followed closely by Yusuke, _better that you keep an eye on things. Don’t wander too far._

Yusuke nods, and Kurama heads off for the museum.

He approaches through the parking lot, sticking to the pools of shadow between the streetlights, and pauses long before he gets anywhere near the actual building.

_Hiei?_ he thinks, and then there’s an odd tug on one of the dim presences in the back of his mind, and Hiei sends back, _Done. The cameras are still on, but they’re not recording._ There’s a pause, and then, _I think._

Amusement drifts from Yusuke, and Kurama - with some difficulty - restrains the urge to drop his face into his hands. There’s another odd sensation in the back of his mind, connected to one of those dim sparks - this one something like…like fingers rifling through a filing cabinet - and then Hiei returns again, more strongly this time, _Not recording._

Kurama nods and continues forward, still accompanied by a sense of amusement that is (mostly) not his own, as well as an odd sort of dignified petulance that _definitely_ isn’t. He pauses again once he reaches the door - not one of the main doors, but a service entrance by the loading docks. The main doors are all coded for entry after hours, and each employee of the museum has a unique entrance passcode - easy enough for Hiei to lift, in theory, once he’s infiltrated an employee’s mind, but the codes are also tracked and monitored. If one is used twice in the same shift, the alarm is automatically triggered.

The service doors are also coded, of course, but can also be unlocked from various points within the building to allow entry for various deliveries - including the security office.

He feels that odd tug in the back of his mind again, and a moment later, hears the muted ‘click’ of the bolt sliding free. He sends a brief, appreciative emotion back through the link and slips inside, easing the door shut behind him.

Beyond the door is the wide, empty space of the loading dock - no motion detectors here, only cameras, so Kurama makes his way through quickly to the other side, where an employee entrance opens onto the museum proper. This door has no code on it, only a manual lock, which yields easily to a few prodding tendrils of vine he sends snaking out from his sleeve.

He doesn’t open it yet, though - only stands there gripping the handle. _Here’s where things get tricky_ , he thinks, and feels a little frisson of anxiety run through him in response.

_I could try -_ Hiei sends him, albeit with uncharacteristic hesitation, but Kurama cuts him off almost immediately.

_No_ , he returns sharply, ignoring the way he can feel Hiei’s irritation prickle at his mind. _We have no idea what might happen._

Whatever the mental equivalent of grumbling under one’s breath is, Hiei is doing it now, prompting another trickle of amusement from Yusuke. It’s still laced with a certain amount of nervous anticipation, though - bravado does not carry well through mental links. Kurama does his best to ignore all of this.

The motion detectors are the biggest problem. Ordinarily, Kurama’s first option would be to simply shut the system off, in a similar fashion to what he’s had Hiei do with the cameras, but a quick reconnaissance trip earlier in the week quickly ruled out that option - in addition to the guards in the security office, there’s a mobile foot patrol. These guards serve two purposes - they double-check blind spots in the camera system, and they ensure that the motion detectors are fully functional, by turning them off in every sector of the museum they enter, and then back on again once they move through. If the entire system is shut down, the patrol will pick up on it almost instantaneously.

Upon learning this bit of information, Hiei had offered to extend his mind-control net to encompass the mobile guards as well, but Kurama balked - Hiei has never had to maintain a team link alone before, much less while controlling several other minds simultaneously. And the guards in the office are of higher priority - not only can they be used to control locks and various other security measures, but Kurama needs them not to register what they’re seeing on the monitors. He can bypass the motion detectors ( _probably_ ), but has yet to figure out a way to render himself invisible to cameras.

_You never did tell us how you plan to get past the motion detectors_ , Yusuke reminds him, curiously, and Kurama very carefully does not think about the fact that the reason is because he’s not entirely convinced it will work himself. Instead, he takes a deep breath, pulls the door open, and shifts.

It’s a silver fox that slinks through the narrow opening, carefully pulling its tails clear before the door swings closed on well-oiled hinges. It pauses, nervously, before taking several cautious steps forward, body hunkered low to the ground.

Nothing happens.

_I cannot **fucking** believe it was that easy_ , Yusuke sends disgustedly, and Kurama grins, his tongue lolling.

_Fur muffles sound waves_ , he responds - although, honestly, he’s just as surprised. He’s also not willing to trust his good luck too far, so he stays low to the ground and hugs the walls as he moves through the halls. _I guess sometimes you **can** trust the Internet._

_Focus_ , Hiei cuts in. _None of this is going to do much good if you run straight into the patrol because you’re too busy gloating._

_I am not -_ Kurama begins, and then stops abruptly - half because they’ll both know he actually is gloating (they’re in his head, after all), and half because there are footsteps approaching from the other end of the hallway he’s currently slinking down. Ears pricked forward and quivering, he slips into the dappled shadows beside an exhibit and lifts one of his hind paws to scratch at the thick ruff around his neck until a small seed drops free.

Flashlight beams sweep across the hall, almost blinding his darkness-adjusted eyes. With one more quick glance to measure the guards’ positioning, he leans down and noses at the seed, which takes off rolling - and continues for much longer than seems possible, until it finally comes to a stop directly in the center of the guard patrol. A brief, tense silence follows for a moment, followed by a noise very like a single kernel of popcorn going off - and then the very distinct sound of four bodies hitting the floor.

Kurama emerges from his hiding place and continues down the hallway, heading for the exhibition room, with a brief pause to examine the unconscious patrol. The pollen he’s chosen is near-colorless, and will be unlikely to draw anyone’s attention unless they’re specifically looking for it, reaffirming his sense of smug superiority as he moves on. _Three down, one to go._

There’s a fair amount of exasperation bleeding into his head through the link, but he’s electing to ignore that - for his first heist in the Human World, this is going exceedingly well. Besides, there’s a familiar fondness underlying that exasperation that he’s not sure he minds so much.

He’s about halfway around the museum - sticking to the hallways because of their distinct lack of laser security systems, which he’s still attempting to find a way to fool - when a very dismayed feeling pops into his head, one Kurama traces back to Yusuke.

_What is it? Is something wrong?_

_Oh, no_ , Yusuke replies immediately, and though some things don’t translate very well through mental links, sarcasm apparently gets through just fine. _I’m just thinking about how much worse being in your head is about to get._

A wordless sort of curiosity collects in the link - although slightly more absently from Hiei’s side, and Kurama wonders if he’s starting to feel the strain. Almost immediately, though, Hiei’s energy snaps out against his - a bit like the mental equivalent of being smacked over the nose with a rolled-up newspaper. Kurama makes no effort to conceal his indignation.

_Don’t ask stupid questions, then_ , Hiei retorts, strong as ever.

_If you two are done flirting,_ Yusuke interrupts, amused, and Kurama doesn’t know if eye-rolling is going to travel across the link, but he’s sure as hell going to try. _I thought maybe you’d like to know that a very suspicious-looking black van pulled into the parking lot a little while ago. Looks like your human crew is here._

_I’m surprised you’re not more used to me being right by now_ , Kurama points out, very deliberately, and is rewarded by a hearty renewal of that exasperated feeling. Chuckling, he continues down the hallway, although a little more quickly now - time just became a rather pressing issue. _Hiei, you know what to look for?_

Wordless affirmation. Then, several long moments of tense, anticipatory silence - long enough that Kurama nearly reaches the doors to the exhibit hall before there’s any further communication.

_There_ , Hiei announces. _You’re not on any of the cameras anymore._

Kurama halts, then takes a quick mental inventory of the cameras in the room - and, as he suspected, he’s not in any of the blind spots they provide. Which means there’s only one other explanation for why Hiei suddenly cannot locate him on any of the video feeds.

_They’ve got the cameras on loop_ , he thinks, and then almost immediately, _But that doesn’t mean **they** can’t see me._

He darts for the shadows in the corner nearest the doors - it’s not hidden to the cameras, but with their relatively low resolution and the concealing darkness, he thinks he’s unlikely to be seen at first glance. And that will have to do - the locks on the door still need to be picked, after all, and the actual blind spot is on the opposite side of the room.

_All right, you can let the guards go now._

_I can hold them longer, if you need_ , Hiei sends back, a little doubtfully. He’s not a fan of the unpredictable, and Kurama knows he’d much prefer to keep the guards under his control until they’re all well-clear of the area.

_I need you to track energy signatures more. I need to know where the humans are_ , Kurama reminds him, feeling the absence of the fourth member of their team more keenly than ever. Yusuke is essentially aura-blind, rendering him near-useless for tracking energy signatures unless they’re huge, angry, and coming straight at him. Kurama’s a little better, but can’t do much in the way of pinpointing exact locations, especially not with his senses filtered through rooms and walls. Hiei’s Jagan will let him see precise locations for energy signatures, but it’s just one more thing he’s never had to do while maintaining a telepathic link alone.

Normally, with Kuwabara around, the two seem to set up an odd sort of resonance loop, with their sensory powers increasing each other’s, Hiei’s talent for precise location buffered by Kuwabara’s preternatural sensitivity and ability to read not only power, but intent. This information is then effortlessly slipped along the communication net, until all four are awash in a bright awareness of their surroundings. Now, there’s none of that - just a brief surge of Hiei’s power, and then his voice, drifting through Kurama’s mind.

_There’s two near the building - one around the back, the other already inside._

_Where?_ Kurama asks, and when he feels Hiei’s hesitation, prods gently. He gets back only a soft wash of confusion first, before Hiei finally answers slowly, _In the ceiling?_

Kurama has to resist the urge to tip his head curiously to one side, attempting as he is to avoid any more movement than necessary to keep from drawing the attention of the human crew, in case one of them is watching the live camera feeds. Instead, he thinks, _Show me_ , and Hiei obliges.

Suddenly, Kurama is not in his own body anymore. Instead, his perspective is outside, staring down at the building from several feet above the ground. In the corner of his vision, Yusuke is a bright, burning presence, his lightning-blue aura clearly visible though he’s dozens of meters away, circling around the parking lot. Then, there’s a dizzying swoop as Hiei refocuses his attention, dragging Kurama along with him, and suddenly, Kurama’s looking at himself, his deep green aura instantly recognizable. There’s an odd sense of _doubling_ , but thankfully, Hiei maintains this view for only a moment, letting Kurama orient himself before turning their piggybacked senses to a much dimmer, unfamiliar aura halfway across the museum and, yes - in the ceiling.

Then Kurama is back in control of his own senses, no longer seeing through any of Hiei’s three eyes, and with a curious sort of nausea settling into the pit of his stomach. _I know I asked_ , he thinks, closing his eyes briefly to fend off the uncomfortable realization that the last time he saw his own body like that, he’d just forcibly ripped his soul free from its dying shell, _but don’t ever do that again._

He feels Hiei’s mind slip along the edges of his own, not prying, but merely curious, and he delicately pushes it away, simultaneously burying his recollections of the past. _Not now_ , he thinks, but this is one thought he does not send along the telepathic connection between them. _Not now, but perhaps someday_

_In the vents_ , he sends instead, his gaze drifting upwards. _Clever. Gives them access without having to deal with security systems._

_They’ll have to come out eventually, though, won’t they?_ Yusuke asks, and Kurama gives this several long moments of thought, knowing that accurate prediction is now just as important - and maybe even more so - as speed.

_Maybe. Maybe not. It’s possible they could simply make their way to the exhibit hall through the vents, and then lower someone down to steal the artifact._ The pads of his paws itch to be fingers again, to be working the locks on the hall doors, but he can’t take that risk - not yet. _That way, they might only need to take the cameras, and not worry about the other security measures._

_Are **we** worrying about the other security measures?_ Yusuke asks impatiently, but before Kurama can answer, Hiei cuts in.

_They’re moving. The one around back is inside now, and the one in the ceiling just dropped down. It’s moving down the hallway._

_As it turns out, no_ , Kurama sends back, in answer to Yusuke’s earlier question, and with a bravado he doesn’t necessarily feel all the way down. The truth is, he’s been leaving a lot to - well, perhaps not chance, but to lower levels of certainty than he’s usually comfortable with - on this job, and this is just one more element he’s not entirely convinced of. With two of the members of the human team on the move, though, and on nearly opposite sides of the building, Kurama feels he has little choice but to take his chances.

He shifts back, dispensing with the usual theatrics and instead attempting to move as little as is physically possible when one is transforming from a rather large fox into a rather ordinary-sized human being. He braces himself for the inevitable alarm, but nothing comes, and neither Hiei nor Yusuke send him any warnings of the human team changing their behaviors.

_Excellent_ , he thinks, with some relief, and slinks carefully along the wall to the doors of the exhibit hall, extending his fingers towards the lock and letting those slim vines go to work again. _They **have** turned off the motion detectors._

_Did you just -?_ Yusuke sends incredulously, and with such force that it becomes the mental equivalent of a roar. Perhaps he should have kept that last thought to himself. _Oh, I am **so** telling Kuwabara about this._

Delightedly, Kurama realizes that eye-rolling transfers just fine over the mental link, because Hiei is now doing it with some vigor. He’s still grinning when he feels the pins of the lock click into place, and when he eases the doors open just a crack to peer inside, but it dies almost immediately as a wash of blue light spills out through the narrow opening and over his face.

_They have not, however, turned off the laser grids_ , he sends grimly, as he slips into the room, opening the doors just enough to edge through and then easing them shut behind him. There’s a small, clear area just inside the entrance, and he carefully stays within its bounds as he watches the beams shift restlessly through the room.

_You’ve got bigger problems_ , Hiei responds. _I’m pretty sure they just found the guards you knocked out - one of them’s headed your way. Fast. I give you maybe a minute before they’re on you._

With a muttered curse, Kurama throws himself into the laser grid. No time now to worry about being picked up by the humans if they’re watching a live camera feed - if he doesn’t get the artifact and get out of here immediately, they’re going to know he’s here, anyway.

The grid itself is no serious problem - he’s dodged worse than this on the fly, and he lets his body move itself instinctively out of the way of the beams. As he nears the center of the room, he thinks urgently, _Hiei - code, now._

As he lands squarely in front of the display case holding the artifact, Hiei rattles off the code he’s pulled from the guards, and Kurama punches it into the small pad - there’s a muted ‘beep’, and the light shifts from red to green. Carefully, he lifts the glass case, palms the small, dark orb contained within, and replaces the cover - just as the lights blink off in his peripheral vision.

_Company_ , Hiei warns, and the doors behind Kurama are thrown open.

_That was **not** a minute_ , he sends back, but doesn’t pay much attention to whatever Hiei offers up in response. This is now a very different game, and the vast majority of his attention is focused on keeping his body language loose and unconcerned as he turns to face the newcomer. First impressions are important, after all.

It turns out to be a woman - young, thin, and almost disconcertingly intense, concealed tension vibrating almost visibly under her skin. Kurama smiles at her, and she smiles back - but there’s just a little too much tooth in that smile, and Kurama can’t fail to notice the way it does not approach anywhere near her eyes.

“Not bad,” she says, loose and easy - and in English. “Your hacker much be pretty good to get you in here before me.”

Kurama frowns slightly, wondering if he’s lost something in translation. “I’m sorry,” he answers, silently thanking his stepfather for all that practice with American business partners. “My what?”

“Your hacker,” she repeats, waving one of her hands absently in the air, as if this explains everything. “You know, whoever stopped the security system from picking you up.”

The unfamiliar word suddenly locks into place in Kurama’s head, dredged up from dim memories of crime shows and television dramas his stepbrother watches occasionally, and the thought of Hiei being a ‘hacker’ of sorts makes him smile again. He opens his mouth to correct the young woman - but then suddenly realizes that her gaze has gone slightly far away, in the manner of someone on one end of a telephone call.

_Communications_ , he thinks. _She’s in contact with the rest of her team somehow._

“You don’t have a hacker,” she says, slowly, her attention coming back to focus on Kurama again. She’s turning something over in her mind, he can tell, and not liking whatever conclusions she’s coming to. “So how did you make it past all the security so quickly?”

His smile becomes a grin, knowing that his answer is going to infuriate not only her, but Yusuke and Hiei, as well. “By being very good at what I do.”

Indeed, a wordless sense of protest goes ringing through his head - but there’s also a dim sense of warning from Hiei. Without the luxury of time to investigate further, Kurama turns to leave, meaning to be across the room and out the door before anything else can go wrong. And that’s when something surprising happens.

The young woman barks a string of words - too low and too quick for Kurama to really understand any of them, but the tone is unmistakeable, and he realizes immediately that he’s made an error in judgment. This is no ordinary thief - she’s leading the others.

Almost as soon as she finishes speaking, the laser grid snaps back on, pinning him down. _Oh_ , Kurama thinks, with a great deal more respect, turning to look back at her where she’s still standing, calmly, by the door. _She’s good. But not good enough._

“That’s a bold move,” he observes, and he can hear the way his voice has gone low and rough, but is powerless to control it. She’s gambling - not only with him, but with her teammates as well, and a leader who will endanger her followers doesn’t sit particularly well with him. “If either of us trip the alarms, the police will come down on all of us.”

It’s a deliberately chosen phrase, ‘all of us’. It encompasses the rest of her team, at least one of whom he knows is in the building, and he can see the moment she realizes the implications, although she does an admirable job concealing the way her body coils tight. _So_ , he thinks, _she knows the dangers, and trusts her team to trust her._

“Then I guess you’d better start negotiating a way out that doesn’t get you arrested,” she offers, and Kurama barely - barely - stifles the urge to laugh.

“I think you’ve overlooked something rather important, though,” he points out, and though he managed to stop the laugh, he cannot stop the smile - nor how it pleases him that this is what breaks her calm mask.

“And what’s that?” she asks, and he’s gloating, he knows he is, but she’s _just not good enough._

“All of the security was still on when I arrived,” he answers, and then he’s gone, vaguely hearing her cry, “Don’t -!”

But he’s already moving, as easy and as smooth as it was the first time, and he sees - of course he does - the moment a second member of her team comes into the room from the opposite side, even without Hiei’s sudden warning thought of, _Flanking!_

It’s no concern of his, though. His usual style doesn’t call for much in the way of direct, physical confrontation, but Kurama is still more than capable of going through someone when the need arises, so he touches down, flashes a pleased grin back over his shoulder at the young woman standing dumbfounded there, pinned by her own trap - and then ricochets off the man he intended to go straight through.

_He’s about as solid as Kuwabara!_ Kurama thinks wildly, staggering backwards, feeling the moment his body hits the tipping point of balance and loses the fight.

_Idiot_ , he hears Hiei say in his head, closely followed by Yusuke’s satisfied crow of, _Ooh, Kuwabara’s going to **kill** you._

He’s just beginning the painful wrench of core muscles that will twist him out of the path of the laser grid when the man’s hand shoots out with almost unnatural speed and catches him by the shirt, halting his fall. A moment later, the lasers shut off, and Kurama lets himself hang from the man’s grip, more than a little chagrined.

“Thank you,” he says, and in his head, he warns, _Powers. At least, latent ones. Augmented speed and strength._ “That could have ended poorly.”

_You need backup?_ Yusuke asks, a little dubious, but no less eager.

_No_ , Kurama answers, trying not to grin at the disappointment he feels echo back. _But I do have an idea. Call Kuwabara._

_**What?**_ Yusuke sends back emphatically, but Kurama doesn’t have much attention to spare, because his captor is also saying something, and that seems a little more pressing at the moment.

“Don’t thank me yet,” is what it turns out to be - at least, Kurama thinks so, because the man has some sort of accent that makes his speech a little more difficult to understand. “You might not want to after what happens next.”

_You want to explain to me why we went to all that effort to keep from triggering any alarms and bringing Kuwabara down here on all our asses, and now you want me to **call** him?_ Yusuke rages on, in the back of his mind.

“Oh?” Kurama asks, not failing to notice that he’s still being held out over the floor in a deliberately defenseless position. “And what happens next?”

_What are you up to?_ Hiei asks, mild suspicion cutting sharply through Yusuke’s waves of indignation - though it doesn’t seem to do much in the way of stopping Yusuke’s tirade, which Kurama has all but completely tuned out by now. There’s more curiosity in the thought than anything else, though, and Kurama has to stop himself from breathing out a relieved sigh.

“That depends on you,” the man answers, with a significant look towards the pouch strung through Kurama’s belt. “Although, I will say,” he adds, “it’s probably in your best interest to hand over that artifact.”

_Just trust me_ , Kurama thinks, urgently, meaningfully, and is exceedingly grateful for the way his head goes suddenly silent. Without the distraction of his teammates arguing, he finally has the presence of mind to realize where his current encounter is going, and to slide one hand up and around the man’s wrist in preparation.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to disagree with you on that,” he says, quite honestly. And, really, this would all be a lot simpler if he could just tell them what they’re actually trying to steal, but he supposes he’s already pushing his luck by deliberately calling in outside help. “I don’t think it would be in anyone’s best interest.”

“Then I’m real sorry for what I gotta do now,” the man says, and rather predictably, hauls Kurama upright and attempts to knock several of his teeth out. Unsurprised, Kurama tenses his core, lets the man pull him upright, and then just…gets out of the way. It’s simple enough, and with a gentle tug on the wrist he has captured, even easier still to send the man staggering well past him and out of reach.

“What the hell?” he hears growled behind him, as he takes several precautionary steps towards the door, increasing his distance from the human to something more conducive to his usual style. And he knows - he _knows_ \- he should just turn tail and run, get himself and his teammates out of there before there are consequences to be paid, but…

Instead, he settles himself in, lifts his hands, and waits as the man whips himself around, obviously expecting him to be halfway out the door by now. When he sees Kurama standing there instead, he eyes him warily, but falls into a ready stance of his own.

_Oh, so **you** get to brawl with the dude, and I just have to stand out here and make phone calls for you?_ Yusuke asks indignantly.

_I’m not **brawling** with him, I’m…learning_ , Kurama explains. _I imagine Koenma might like a little more information on the extent of their powers._

_We’re never getting out of here_ , Hiei gripes, but anything else the two have to say gets lost as Kurama diverts most of his attention to his opponent, who has apparently gotten tired of waiting, and has launched himself across the space between them.

Just like the blonde thief, he’s good - much better than Kurama anticipated - but not good enough. Kurama turns aside his strikes with palms and forearms, never backing away, but only circling slightly, always making the man move forward, keeping him on the offensive. Both humans are talking, he realizes after a moment, but none of it seems to be directed at him, so he disregards most of it, leaving the vast majority of his mind to carefully interpret and store away the information this encounter is giving him, from the angle of each strike to the duration of the sting it leaves behind.

Even still, with his mind working furiously, he knows the exact moment a fourth mind slots into place, slipping seamlessly into the connection between them - and suddenly, Kurama can feel the emotions running through the two humans in the room with him, feel how confused and angry and frustrated they are, feel how fear is now bubbling to the surface, although it is tempered by cold logic.

_Welcome home_ , he thinks, rather inanely, so overwhelmed by the sense of _rightness_ , of _belonging_ , that he misses a block and takes a solid hit to the arms, sending him staggering backwards a few steps. Confusion and surprise blooms in the two humans as he shakes his head, trying to reel his emotions back in check.

_Whatever you’re doing, you’d better not still be doing it when I get there_ , comes the answer, gruff and irritated - but no less fond for any of that, Kurama can tell. _Five minutes._

_They know you’re coming_ , Kurama warns, feeling fear spike in the room again as the two hold some sort of conversation over their communications system.

_I know - they tried to call us off. Using the chief’s voice, no less. If I hadn’t had a personal source, it probably would have worked, too. Let me worry about that._

It’s the logical decision, Kurama knows - with so little time until the police arrive in full force, it’s unlikely these two will be able to make it out to their companion in the parking lot and get away without being caught. Besides which, they won’t have successfully stolen anything, so there’s little chance of Kuwabara suffering any negative consequences, regardless of what happens. And yet…

_And yet._

He’s just begun to settle himself into a ready stance again, eyeing the young man, whose eyes have finally cleared and whose attention is now firmly back on Kurama - and, really, there were probably a dozen opportunities to take him down there, while he was distracted by whatever conversation was happening outside of Kurama’s ability to overhear, but that’s not really the point, is it? - when the door behind him flies open, crashing off the wall and bouncing back.

He doesn’t need to look to know Yusuke is standing there - if the style of entry weren’t enough, the flare of blue-white energy is achingly familiar. Immediately, the eyes of the two humans shift over his shoulder, and the young man takes several deliberate paces backwards, placing himself at the apex of the triangle formed between them, blocking off their access to the girl.

[Oi!] Yusuke says, irritatedly, jerking his head back towards the hallway. [Let’s go! Enough of your ‘learn my opponent’ crap, Kuwabara’s going to be _pissed_ if he has to arrest us.] He pauses, considering for a moment, then adds, [Again.]

[Arrest _you_ again,] Kurama retorts, but the sound of sirens is starting to drift into the room, so he supposes it’s a decent enough point.

“I’m afraid that’s my cue to leave,” he says, apologetically - and finds himself a little surprised that he means it. He’d like to stay and get to know these two, and their teammate outside. They’re obviously much more than ordinary humans, and if his current track record is anything to go by, that’s a pretty good indication that they’d get along fine. He turns to follow Yusuke out of the building - and that’s just about when things go wrong.

There’s a low growl from behind him, then movement he cannot see, but more _feels_ \- an odd sensation that sets the hairs on the back of his neck prickling, trying to stand up in a thick ruff that he no longer has. Instinct takes over - the instinct to protect both himself and his teammate, who has his back turned and is completely unaware.

He feels his body move, almost without any input from his conscious mind, and it’s only when he’s halfway through the turn, his arms already drawn back and pistoning forward in a palm strike to his opponent’s chest, that his brain finally musters up the strength to have some say in the matter, and he manages to pull his hit slightly - enough, he thinks, that the man’s previously-demonstrated shielding should counter it.

Except it doesn’t. He feels bone first warp, then crack, under his palms, and the man goes tumbling back through the room, coming to rest in an unsettling pile of limbs near the opposite door. The girl is by his side almost immediately, and Yusuke comes storming back down the hallway, swearing up a storm.

[What the _hell_ , man?] he demands, and Kurama winces guiltily. [This isn’t one of your fights - you weren’t supposed to _kill_ the guy.]

[I didn’t!] Kurama protests. [I pulled the hit!] He can’t help glancing back over his shoulder, though, just to make sure it’s actually true. The man is stirring, brushing aside the girl’s concern - although, Kurama notices, he makes no move to rise. [I just - I thought he would shield it. He _should_ have shielded it, the way I bounced off him earlier.]

Yusuke rolls his eyes as Kurama’s tone turns contemplative. [Figure it out later,] he says, gesturing urgently down the hall again. [We don’t have time. Let’s _go_.]

It feels wrong to just _leave_ , though, so Kurama turns back once more. “I - I am so sorry about that,” he says, a little awkwardly. “I thought - “

But he’s fairly certain that letting them know they have powers, even vaguely, is just one more way this mission _wasn’t_ supposed to end, so he trails off, unsure how to finish. “It doesn’t matter,” he decides, shaking his head, knowing he’s wasting time. “Look, we really do have to go, but - the head detective is a friend of ours. He’ll look after you.”

He knows this, at least, is true - even without knowing the details of the situation, Kuwabara will absolutely ensure that the young man gets proper medical attention, and (perhaps more importantly) that the three are kept together. He understands the bonds that can form between teammates, after all - and he’ll be able to feel the ones formed by these three. Kurama can hardly help but notice, and he’s only experiencing it secondhand, through his mental link with Kuwabara.

He pauses for a moment, wondering if there’s anything else he can do - wondering at the way the fear has bled out of the room, to be replaced by resignation and…something else, curiously hidden from his borrowed senses - but Yusuke hisses his name angrily from the doorway, so he only repeats, “I’m sorry,” and follows Yusuke out the door.

They make it about halfway down the hallway when they’re approached by a figure striding purposefully towards them, and that sense of _rightness_ , of _completeness_ , washes over him again. He manages to avoid projecting anything quite so asinine as before, but it’s been a very long time since the four of them have been connected this strongly - he hardly thinks anyone can blame him for being affected.

_Five minutes, I said_ , Kuwabara growls in his mind. _You’re lucky I managed to convince the guys to let me come in first for recon._

_Please_ , Kurama responds airily. _You think we’d have come waltzing down the hallway if we hadn’t known it was you?_

_You, not so much_ , Kuwabara admits. _I figure you know better. Him, on the other hand?_ He tips his head towards Yusuke, then shrugs. _I’m not so sure._

There’s a brief flare of self-satisfaction from Yusuke, and even if they weren’t mentally connected, Kurama could still predict exactly what’s about to happen. _Don’t you dare -_ he warns, but there’s nothing he can do to stop Yusuke from sending absolutely anything he wants to.

_Yeah, well_ , Yusuke retorts smugly, _for once, none of this was my fault. Wasn’t my idea, wasn’t my plan, and Kurama’s the one who broke the dude’s ribs. I didn’t even **touch** him._

There’s a brief, surprised pause, and then Kuwabara is turning, his eyebrows raised curiously. _Do I even want to know?_

Kurama winces again. _It’s…a long story._

_And one I assume you’re going to tell me after this is all through?_

It’s not a question, not really, but Kurama nods anyway. _After_ , he agrees, and then tosses the pouch with the artifact to Kuwabara, noticing the way a grimace passes briefly over his face when he makes contact with it, and the way he almost fumbles the easy catch. _You might want to make sure that gets to where it belongs. And I don’t think I mean the display case._

_So **that’s** why you’re really here_ , Kuwabara sends, eyeing the bag warily. _Wrapping this up might take longer than I thought._

_What a surprise_ , Hiei’s voice cuts in, dryly. _I’m going to leave you all here if you don’t get a move on._

Kuwabara rolls his eyes, and cuts a wry smile in Kurama’s direction. _You all right to get out?_

_Naturally_ , he answers, grinning.

_Fine, you’re on your own, then. Catch up with you when this is all over._

A few moments later, the halls are filled with the sounds of booted footsteps, men shouting back and forth to one another, metal jangling. Uniformed officers jog quickly through every entrance, and in one corner of the building, two shadows detach themselves from the wall in their wake and slip, unnoticed, out into the night.


	4. Chapter 4

It ends up being several days before things get wrapped up. There’s an overabundance of paperwork - all three thieves are United States citizens, but the farther in Kuwabara digs to try and determine just who they actually are, the more questions he ends up having - and he keeps having to find time for surreptitious conversations with Botan or Koenma about exactly what needs to happen with the artifact. At least they’re not making him use the little compact anymore - Kuwabara’s not sure how he’d explain _that_ one away if he were caught.

He spends the vast majority of those several days at the station, grabbing quick naps here and there whenever he can, often waking up with his head pillowed on his arms and a fresh cup of coffee nearby - he’s pretty sure the station’s receptionist might actually be some sort of divine being. On the few occasions where someone forces him back to his apartment, he’s too tired to do much besides stagger to his bed and collapse facedown onto it, only to drag himself back out a few hours later and head back into the station to repeat the whole process again.

The chief offers to put someone else on the case a few days in, after Kuwabara nearly tumbles from his chair after falling asleep during a debriefing, but he refuses. Even if the Spirit World weren’t involved, even if the case were particularly straightforward ( _nothing_ about it is straightforward, he laments privately), he still doesn’t think he’d give it up. He can’t, not really. 

He knows his primary concern ought to be justice - knows that anything else is entirely out of his purview - just like he knows that the three ought to have been kept separate when they were brought in. It’s practically law enforcement 101 - keep multiple perps away from each other so they can’t solidify their stories, look for holes or contradictions when they’re interviewed separately. He tells himself it doesn’t really matter in this case - the three were picked up literally mid-job, and he’s got independent witnesses to confirm (never mind that none of his witnesses would hold up under scrutiny - they’re all personally connected to him, after all) - but he knows the truth.

The truth is, he has to pause every time he walks into a room with the three of them, take a moment to keep himself from being swamped by the strength of the bond between them, even when he’s not actively looking for it. That even before Koenma told him their history, he knew what this crew was about. They’re not bad people - he can feel it. Just people trying to do good the only way they know how, and keeping each other afloat, because there’s no one else to do it for them.

It’s late, the day he’s finally satisfied with the way things have gone - well past normal quitting time by the time he’s headed for home. He doesn’t have the time - or the energy, really - to let anyone else know, and yet, when he opens the door to his apartment, Kurama’s standing there waiting for him.

“One of these days,” he says, toeing off his shoes in the entryway, “you’re going to tell me how you do that.”

Kurama only smiles enigmatically and offers him a bottle of beer, so fresh from the fridge that it hasn’t even had time to form condensation yet. Kuwabara knows a bribe when he sees one, but he’s also not too proud to accept it, so he takes the bottle and lets Kurama steer him further into the apartment and towards his favorite armchair.

He pauses momentarily when he catches sight of both Yusuke and Hiei, but only raises an eyebrow at Kurama and continues on. To his credit, Yusuke at least lets him settle into the chair before starting in on him.

“Took you long enough,” he says, once Kuwabara is firmly ensconced in the chair (he doesn’t think he’s going to make it back out of it tonight, which means waking up tomorrow morning with a sore neck - a relatively small price to pay). There’s a soft snort from Hiei, who’s perched in the open window, one leg pulled up to prop his foot on the sill. There have been several long arguments in the past about Hiei’s booted feet on various surfaces in Kuwabara’s apartment, all of which have apparently had absolutely no effect.

“Yeah, well, apparently your new friends have some pretty complicated history, and international paperwork’s a bitch,” Kuwabara answers. Yusuke, predictably, splutters for a few moments over the ‘new friends’ moniker, but Kuwabara ignores him with the ease of long practice.

“What happens to them now?” Kurama asks, perching on one of the arms of Kuwabara’s chair, his thigh a delicate warmth where it’s pressed along the length of Kuwabara’s arm. Kuwabara tries not to be too pleased about this - it’s likely a matter of convenience, easier than attempting to convince Yusuke to free up any space where he’s sprawled on the couch - but he’s not sure how successful he ends up being.

Clearing his throat and taking a sip of his beer, he answers, “Not sure - it’s not my decision anymore. It’s not _anybody’s_ decision anymore, really.”

They aren’t connected anymore, not like they were at the museum, but working together for so long has lowered their barriers around each other significantly - and, apparently, permanently. So there’s a sort of…low-level sense of curiosity that bubbles up and spills over into the room, and slips past Kuwabara’s not-insubstantial wards.

“Couple of American officers showed up this morning,” he explains, with no further prompting. “Took them away - out of our hands now.”

The silence in the room takes on a powerfully incredulous tone, until Hiei finally speaks up. “Even _you_ cannot possibly be stupid enough to believe that,” he says, scathingly. Kuwabara turns a flat gaze in his direction and does not dignify him with any further response. 

Yusuke snickers. “Koenma told you to spring them, huh?” he asks, and Kuwabara turns the gaze towards the couch in turn, although he does actually deign to answer this time.

“Unlike the rest of you,” he points out, “I actually _did_ stop taking orders from Koenma.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Yusuke says dismissively, but his grin has taken on a slightly strained quality. Kurama shifts on the chair arm, cloth rustling lightly against skin, and Hiei makes an irritated sound and goes back to staring out the open window. All of this, Kuwabara notes and - partially by force of habit - files carefully away. _Interesting._

He lets the silence sit for a great deal longer than he would have when he was younger - age (and perhaps his stint at the Academy) has taught him that long silences need not be a bad or awkward thing. He takes a few more sips of his beer, watches Yusuke fail miserably at trying not to squirm uncomfortably, and then finally shrugs and says, “Koenma may, however, have made a suggestion that I chose to follow.”

Yusuke crows triumphantly, and Kuwabara rolls his eyes. “To be honest, I’d been trying to figure out a way to spring them, anyway, so those two showing up was pretty convenient,” he admits.

“Who were they?” Kurama asks softly. It’s a deceptively simple question, and Kuwabara actually has to give it a long moment’s thought.

“If I didn’t know better,” he says finally, slowly, “I’d have guessed they were part of the crew. That’s what they felt like, at least. They were worried - really, really, worried.”

“How do you know they weren’t?” Yusuke points out, but it’s not combative - just curious, Kuwabara can tell.

“I guess I don’t, really,” he answers honestly. “I mean, Koenma said there were only the three of them, but it’s not like he’s never been wrong before.” There’s a satisfied sense of amusement from all three of his teammates at this, and it makes Kuwabara grin.

“Still, it…felt right,” he continues, a little hesitantly. He’s spent so long being ridiculed by people for his ‘feelings’, it’s still easy to expect laughter or disbelief in the face of them. But the others simply sit, expectantly, waiting for him to explain, which is both incredibly comforting and terrifyingly humbling. “The three we had in custody definitely didn’t expect those two to show up, and the two who were impersonating officers were terrified it…wouldn’t work?” Kuwabara considers this for a minute, trying to remember exactly what he’d been picking up when he’d brought the two groups together, then nods decisively. It’s a good enough explanation.

“But they trusted each other,” he says, and can’t quite help glancing at each of them in turn - even Hiei, who breaks his gaze almost immediately in favor of staring lazily back out the window. “More than anything. So…maybe not part of the team, not anymore, but - retired?” He examines this conclusion from a few different angles, prodding at the feelings he still remembers washing over him, then shrugs - it’s good enough to work.

In the ensuing silence, there’s an odd _look_ that gets exchanged between Yusuke and Kurama, one that immediately catches Kuwabara’s attention, because it’s speaking _volumes_ \- but not to him. He eyes them speculatively, and Kurama clears his throat delicately and asks, “Won’t that…get you into trouble? Letting them go like that?”

Now it’s not just Hiei who won’t meet his gaze - both Yusuke and Kurama are suddenly very interested in points elsewhere in the room - and Kuwabara realizes that _this_ is what Koenma must have done to get them to agree to this fiasco. He allows himself a moment of mild curiosity that _Hiei_ agreed to what is essentially blackmail, and then feels immediately guilty for it, especially when Hiei glances irritatedly back in his direction, eyes narrowed. He must be more exhausted than he thought (or seriously underestimating the strength of the connection between the four of them, even after all this time), if he’s letting thoughts like that slip through.

“Nah,” he says casually, and thinks he can’t _quite_ be blamed for the warm thrill of pleasure that runs through him when all of the tension immediately dissipates from the room. “Extradition’s way out of my hands - way out of the Chief’s hands, even. Those guys had to go through the Embassy to pick up all the right paperwork, and as far as any of us could tell, it was all legitimate. Whoever they are - they’re good,” he admits. “If they hadn’t had the misfortune to run into me, I don’t think anyone would have ever figured out they were lying.”

“Hope you didn’t sound that enthusiastic about them at work,” Yusuke grumbles, and Kuwabara shrugs again.

He hadn’t been, of course, but it’s much harder to deny the sentiment in the (relative) privacy of his own home. And it’s not _just_ that they’re a talented crew - they are, of course, their history is more than enough to prove that (they’ve met the Emperor - Kuwabara’s never met the Emperor; hell, he’s pretty sure _Koenma’s_ never met the Emperor) - but that they’re something… _more_ than that. Koenma’s theory is untapped power, Kuwabara knows, and he might even be right about that, to an extent. But a lot of it is just… _knowing_ each other. Having been around one another long enough to learn patterns, to predict behavior, to move around and through and with each other without ever really needing to say anything at all. 

Yeah, Kuwabara’s pretty certain that if they hadn’t targeted something the Spirit World had a vested interest in, no one would ever have known they were there.

“Still arrested them, didn’t I?” he points out, and while Kurama gives an absent hum of acknowledgement, Yusuke glares from across the room.

“That doesn’t mean a whole lot,” he argues. “You would have arrested _us_ , too.”

“ _You_ , maybe,” Kuwabara retorts, mostly just to see Yusuke splutter indignantly.

“Okay, I can see why Kurama gets a pass, but Hiei?” he protests. “You cannot tell me you wouldn’t be pleased as hell to arrest Hiei.”

It’s not a bad point, Kuwabara has to admit - but before he gets a chance, Hiei answers with another derisive sound, and Kuwabara’s not sure how to feel about the fact that they’ve apparently been around each other long enough for him to know _exactly_ what this one means. He’s not the only one, though, and that goes a long way towards coloring his opinions on the matter. 

“Oh, please,” Yusuke drawls, as one of Kurama’s hands steals over to rest lightly on the back of Kuwabara’s neck. “Like you’re not _constantly_ threatening to leave one of us out to dry. You never follow through, though.”

Hiei, predictably, bristles and snarls something in return, and from there, it’s basically routine - although, at least it’s limited to verbal attacks for the moment, and Kuwabara doesn’t necessarily need to worry about the durability of any of his furniture yet. He can’t really be bothered to follow the thread of the argument, either, not with the way Kurama’s fingers slide up into the short hairs on the back of his neck and begin scratching gently.

With a low, pleased sound, he lets his head tip forward to give Kurama more room to work, and lets his eyes slip shut as the familiar sound of his teammates’ voices wash over him. So it comes as something of a surprise when he hears Kurama murmur softly, “I’m sorry.”

Kuwabara opens his eyes, and goes so far as to tip his head back to rest against the back of the chair, even though this dislodges Kurama’s hand - it’s warranted, in his opinion, because this is _Kurama_. _Apologizing_. Which is not to say that Kurama never apologizes - he most certainly does - but more that he’s generally considerate and insightful enough to avoid getting into situations where he feels an apology is necessary.

But looking up at Kurama - with whom he has naturally developed a much stronger bond than anyone else in the days since they were still an active team - Kuwabara gets the sense that he’s apologizing for something else entirely, perhaps even _someone_ else entirely. Which doesn’t leave a whole lot of options, really. Yusuke may be an insensitive jerk who’s refused to grow up since Kuwabara’s known him, but he knows when he’s gone too far, and though his apologies might not be as straightforward as Kurama’s (and often involve a lot more name-calling and physical contact), they always come when they’re warranted.

And, really, Kuwabara thinks, he understands why Kurama might think an apology is necessary - but it isn’t. Not anymore. He’s a lot older than he used to be (and maybe a little more mature, on occasion), and some things are just holdovers from those earlier days, when they weren’t yet the team they would become. But they’re not the things that matter - they’re just…surface things. What matters is the three other presences in the room that are so familiar to Kuwabara, he could pick them out anywhere in the city - maybe even anywhere in the _country_ , he thinks some days. What matters is that when he reaches out his mind to brush against theirs, no one’s wards go up, no one flinches away - instead, they all reach back, settling alongside his own like they were always meant to be there, so easily that Yusuke and Hiei’s argument never even pauses.

“For what?” Kuwabara asks softly, as he subtly links them all together in a way they haven’t been in a very long time and watches the lines of tension fade from Kurama’s face. Kurama smiles and reaches out to smooth a hand over Kuwabara’s hair.

“I’m sure this,” he says softly, and tips his head towards Yusuke and Hiei, “isn’t exactly what you wanted to come home to after spending so much time at work.”

And even though Kuwabara knows that isn’t what he originally intended to say, he considers the apology anyway, closing his eyes again and leaning into Kurama, his temple pressed to the soft curve of one hip. Like this, it’s much easier to hear how there’s only one pattern of breath between them, hitching every so often to re-align itself as Yusuke or Hiei change the rhythm to continue their banter. It’s also much easier to feel the way his chest aches with every heartbeat, as his body tries to synchronize itself with three demon hearts that no longer beat, and instead only reminds him with every pulse that he is _different_ \- but also that the day his heart stops will be the day the team finally falls apart, because he is the only one who can hold them together like this.

“Nah,” he says again, and is rewarded by the feel of Kurama’s fingers resuming their gentle scratching on the back of his neck again. “This is _exactly_ what I wanted.”

“ _This_ is what you wanted?” Kurama asks incredulously, and Kuwabara feels energy levels suddenly spike in the room and knows Yusuke and Hiei have escalated to the kind of bickering that will leave him with a repair bill that is more expensive than he’s comfortable with and a contractor who is undoubtedly beginning to question Kuwabara’s various excuses about how, exactly, he manages to put all these holes and singe marks in his walls.

He keeps his eyes shut as energy ripples across his skin, nearly as familiar as his own, and seems to settle there, against the fine hairs on his arms and in the darkness behind his eyelids. And despite knowing that he should get up, shout them both down, and save himself the trouble of cleaning up after them later (and that, too, is so intensely familiar), it is all too easy to just…feel them like this - nearby and so _alive_ that he could nearly drown in it.

So he only presses himself more firmly against Kurama, going so far as to sneak one hand up and over the armrest to rest his fingers gently on the warm strip of skin between Kurama’s waistband and shirt hem, and mumbles contentedly, “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”


End file.
